Oh, Baby
by L. Nevada
Summary: A story in which The Impala reveals himself to the brothers as a living being with the ability to transform into a human and unexpected relationships begin to form. Dean is forced to make some personal self-discoveries and abandon all his previously self-implemented principles for something much more rewarding.


**Summary:**

Upon entering, the brothers froze just inside the motel room and stared at the intruder until their senses came back to them.

Dean was the first to ask, "Who the hell are you?"

The smile on the stranger's face stayed as he answered with a deep, but soft spoken voice, "Dean, don't you recognize me?"

"No. Should I?"

The stranger tilted his head and his smile grew, if that were even possible. With an air of teasing, the stranger replied, "Dean, I'm wounded. What does it say about you if you don't recognize your own car?"

A story in which The Impala reveals himself to the brothers as a living being and unexpected relationships begin to form. Dean is forced to make some self-discoveries and abandon all his previously self-implemented principles for something much more rewarding.

Author's Notes: This is a rather long one-shot with no purpose or reason for existing other than it was a fun idea and it was really fun, though albeit strenuous, to write. I first got the idea of a human and male form for the impala from a general post on Tumblr (I don't know the owner of said post). It should be mentioned that I have modelled The Impala's human form after actor John Barrowman (as suggested in the post). The song I mention is "Ramble On" by Led Zeppelin. Also, I've never been to the town I'm using as a setting and don't know the layouts/landscape of it or the surrounding areas, I'm just writing. Please R&R to let me know what you think of my story as it is very different to the stories I have written and/or posted in the past (meant for a more mature audience).

And to all who follow and/or have read my stories before – Guess what?

I got bored…Enjoy…

Dean is currently driving down a long back road leading into the small town of Bozeman, Montana with Sam riding quietly beside him in the passengers' seat. One of Dean's favorite songs is blaring through the car speakers with Dean himself tapping on the steering wheel along to the sound of the beat. Sam on the other hand is trying to block out the music while he searches through his phone to find more information on the city that they're arriving in. They're currently fifteen minutes outside of Bozeman and after three hours of mostly silent driving Dean finally turns the radio down to a low murmur and shifts slightly in his seat to address the man beside him.

"Having any more luck over there Sam?"

"No, not really. It's not like there's much to go on," Sam replied without looking up from his smart phone.

"You sure this is actually a case? It all sounds like random house breakings and penny thefts to me."

"I know how it sounds, but," Sam began, but was quickly interrupted.

"It sounds completely random."

"Well maybe, but why would a robber risk breaking into a house and only steal a single item? Repeatedly?" Sam asked.

"Maybe they were worried about getting caught or ran out of time and were only able to grab one thing," Dean suggested.

"Well, all of the objects missing are of little to no value. Most of these objects shouldn't even be coming up as missing and some were never even reported to the police. They're just listed so people know to lock their doors at night. I mean, come on, who steals a remote, but doesn't take the TV?"

"You aren't really helping your case here Sammy."

After a pause, Sam began anew with, "Oh, hey, get this…" Apparently he had found some new, more recent information, and began to read an article aloud.

The supposed "case" that Sam and Dean were currently investigating was the seemingly random disappearance of everyday household items throughout an ongoing list of low populated cities throughout the United States within the last hundred years. The missing objects were just about anything from handheld devises to furniture. The first lead Sam read about was four days ago, when a woman in Ohio two weeks ago left town for a few days on business and came home to find one of her antique couches missing. Normally Sam would ignore such an article because, like Dean had repeatedly stated, it was probably just a random burglary. Except there were no signs of a break in and no witnesses to see anyone enter or exit the property. Since it had been several weeks since the brothers' last case, and Sam knew the two were becoming bored and agitated with each other per usual after so long with nothing to occupy them, he decided to look into it.

After three days of quiet on and off research, Sam had found multiple similar stories as far back as a hundred years ago. Someone would report a missing piece of furniture or an overly expensive piece of dish wear. Stories would pop up from coast to coast of people missing kitchen utensils, TVs, books, or even vehicles. But no matter how hard Sam tried he couldn't determine a pattern between any of the incidences. Though some of the missing objects were similar, there was no pattern as to where in the country or at what time, in days, weeks, or years, when an object would go missing. The only detail that stayed consistent in each lead was that each article noted that there were no signs of forced entry at any of the properties and there were no eye witnesses. The cities the incidents took place in also had extremely small populations which would make sense since the acts would go unnoticed.

On the fourth day, Sam decided he needed help. He was becoming frustrated because he couldn't find what he was looking for and he confronted Dean, hoping that a fresh pair of eyes would be able to find a connection.

"I don't know Sam. Do you really think this could be a case? This doesn't sound like our type of gig," Dean had countered. He was always ready to take on a new case, especially since it had been so long since either of the brothers had gone far from their hotel room, but he wasn't quit sold on this one.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure myself, but we haven't had a case in weeks and we've looked into less. It wouldn't hurt to check this out," Sam replied trying to convince his older brother to take the possible case. "The most recent disappearance was in Bozeman, Mt. exactly one week ago. A recliner was reported missing after the family wasn't home during the day and there's still no word on it. The town isn't far from here. We could drive there in two or three hours tops and be able to talk to the owners of the chair before the end of the day."

It didn't take long for Dean to give into his younger brother's pleading and the two were soon on the road again.

Now they were pulling into said town and continued to repeat the same conversation the two had had just a few short hours ago, but now with additional information.

"So you're saying that this is the only town were two objects have gone missing?" Dean inquired to make sure he understood the newly found data.

"As far as I can tell, yeah. At least in recent years. This is the first town to have two objects mysteriously disappear from two supposedly unrelated families," Sam replied. "This article was just released a few hours ago. The family, who happen to live on the opposite side of town from the house we're driving to, went to sleep two nights ago and woke to find that their family car was missing from their driveway. No alarms were triggered during the night and there're no known eye witnesses."

"Of course not, let's not make this easy or anything," Dean stated sarcastically. "Wait, a car?"

"Yeah a car and it's not the only missing automobile I've read about. A couple reported a stolen car in Wyoming about a month back, another couple lost their truck without a trace three years ago in Texas, and a single mother reported her missing car back in 1998 in Virginia. None of the vehicles were ever recovered, just like all of the other items I've read about and I wouldn't be surprised if there were more."

Dean made a noise of understanding in his throat and then suggested, "Well, it's only 3:30. Let's check out both houses and see if we can find any connection between the victims and maybe find out what we're dealing with."

"Oh, so now they're victims," Sam asked, turning his head to look at his brother. He had a knowing smirk on his face.

"Well, maybe we do have a case here Sammy. And we definitely have to check this town out before ruling out the possibility," Dean answered as he turned on to the street where the "victims" of the missing recliner lived.

"Well I should have known that's all it takes to get Dean Winchester interested in anything," Sam mocked.

"What the hell are you talking about," Dean demanded.

"Nothing," Sam replied turning to look out his side window. Then he added with a huff of a laugh, "All I have to do is mention the disappearance of a few cars and you get all worked up."

"Hey, I know what it's like to lose a beloved car." – "For no longer than a day." – "Hey! If I have the opportunity to help a few people and maybe return a nice chair or a loved family car in the process, then I'm happy to take the job," Dean finished his trying and failing to be honorable speech.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm sure it has nothing to do with your uncomfortable attachment to, and need to protect the impala," Sam concluded the conversation as he pointed out the windshield. "On your right."

Dean pulled the car up to a light blue painted house sitting on a corner and parked the impala. "Oh, you don't listen to him Baby. He's just jealous," Dean all but cooed to his vehicle as he swiftly removed the keys.

"It's scary how often you say that. And does it have to be out loud?" Sam asked as he waited for his brother to walk around the car so they could approach the house together.

As the two began to walk away from the car and towards the house Dean adjusted his tie and leaned over to Sam, whispering, "If you think that's bad you don't want to hear what I think about that car," Dean laughed with a suggestive smile that made Sam grimace. Then Dean continued to walk up the steps of the house to ring the doorbell.

Thirty minutes later and the two men walked back to the car with slightly slumped shoulders as both instinctively loosened their ties. Disappointingly, but not too surprisingly, the two gathered no new information to help with their case. Apparently the victims had both gone to work for the day while their kids were at school. When the family returned home the father's favorite chair was missing from the living room leaving a big empty corner making the large and slightly messy room feel just a bit less cluttered. The victims hadn't heard any news from the police on what had happened to the chair and had already "managed to get over the terrible loss" and had already ordered another chair to replace the old one. Apparently they had had it for over seven years and it 'needed to be replaced anyway.' The brothers had checked the house and saw no signs of forced entry, no signs of supernatural activity, and no further connections to any earlier victims. Just a normal family with an old, worn out, stolen chair. How disappointing.

Pulling up to the second victims' house on the other side of town fifteen minutes later, the two stepped out of the impala, each readjusted their ties, and walked up to the two-story house.

With a single knock, the door was answered almost immediately by an average middle aged man with brown hair. "Hello, can I help you?"

Sam and Dean each pulled out identical black cases from their inside jacket pockets and flipped open fake .

Dean was the first to speak, "Hello Mr. Davis. I'm Detective Cobain and this is my partner Detective Grohl," the two flipped closed their badges in unison and Dean pressed on. "We're here to investigate the disappearance of the stolen vehicle that you reported a few days ago."

"Really, why would feds be looking into a stolen car?"

"We just go where they send us sir," Dean replied easily.

"And we've also seen and are investigating multiple cases similar to yours," Sam added, sounding only slightly more professional.

"Well, I've already given my statement to the police…" Mr. Davis trailed off.

"We like to gather our own information," Sam pressed again. "I promise, it will only take a few minutes and then we'll be out of your hair. May we come in?" Sam asked with a polite smile that didn't quit reach his eyes.

Twenty minutes later, the brothers emerged from the second house with the same results that they had received from the first.

"I don't know Sam. It's just starting to sound more and more like there isn't a case here," Dean repeated for the third time that day. "I think we've hit a dead end."

"Yeah," Sam agreed a little reluctantly as he turned to walk backwards for a few feet. He scanned his eyes across the house and over the yard before turning around again and matching pace with his brother. He still wasn't a hundred percent convinced of it himself, "Maybe. I don't know, man. Let's sleep on it, just so we're sure, and who knows we may find something new tomorrow."

"Alright, fair enough. Hey, wanna get something to eat?"

Just over two hours later and the brothers stumbled into their motel room. It was a simple room, same as any cheap motel room that they're known to stay in on countless occasions throughout their lives. Faded brown carpet covered every inch of the floor. Two twin beds sat next to each other against a wall and a small TV sat against the wall opposite that undoubtedly would play no more than fifty channels. A short bar signaled the end of the small bedroom and the start of the even smaller kitchen covered with faded tilling could be seen just passed the beds. And just beyond that, down a stretch of sheetrock that couldn't even be labeled a hallway would surely be a molded over bathroom that probably only produced cold water.

Just another average motel room with different bed sheets and another shade of wallpaper. And yet this room was different, something was wrong. The door to the room was standing open. Just an inch of open-air space between the door and the frame itself where it should have been locked in place. Of course, this wasn't unheard of, the door could have been left unlocked and open for half a dozen reasons; except this time, it wasn't.

Sam and Dean walked into the room that they had booked for the night without a single thought to the door that stood ajar. Each with three or four beers from dinner in them (not quit drunk, but each running on a buzz), the two strolled freely into the room and were greeted by a stranger with his right hip leaning against the kitchen bar.

The stranger looked up from the ground to the door and grinned wide at the brothers in greeting when they stepped into the room. The stranger is almost the same height as Dean with a well-toned chest and broad shoulders. He has dark brown, shaggy hair and he is wearing a warm, playful smile on his face. He has deep, dark, almost foggy gray/blue eyes. He's wearing low riding, black skinny jeans that hug his hips and a tight fitting black T-shirt that seems to cling to his strong chest. He's wearing a clean, almost pristine, black leather jacket over the t-shirt that seems to be made for his body. In fact, all of his clothes seem to mold perfectly to his physic and is a clean, dark, brilliant shade of black.

Upon entering, the brothers froze just inside the motel room and stared at the intruder until their senses came back to them.

Dean was the first to ask, "Who the hell are you?"

The smile on the stranger's face stayed as he answered with a deep, but soft spoken voice, "Dean, don't you recognize me?"

"No. Should I?"

The stranger tilted his head and his smile grew, if that were even possible. With an air of teasing, the stranger replied, "Dean, I'm wounded. What does it say about you if you don't recognize your own car?"

Sam stayed silent during the exchange, but looked confused at the stranger's suggestion. Dean on the other hand continued with a startled, "My what?"

The stranger simply pushed off the counter with his hip and took a few steps towards the two men in front of him. "That's right Dean." He stopped mere feet away from the brothers and turned gracefully on the balls of his feet to face the kitchen with his hands on his hips. Then he looked over his right shoulder and locked eyes with Dean, ending rather cheekily with, "I'm your Baby."

Dean's reaction was one of mortification at the suggestive act and he tore his eyes away from the stranger's, having his own land on the stranger's leather jacket. On the back of the leather jacket in old white paint was a near perfect devil's trap expanding across the stranger's back with different smaller marks positioned on either hip. All of the marks identical to the ones spray painted on to the inside hatch of the brother's automobile parked outside.

The stranger chuckled lightly, then turned back to face the brothers. "Now do you recognize me?"

Dean looked like he was trying to keep from going into shock as he met the stranger's eyes again, whispering, "No, that's not possible. Who are you?"

"I told you. I'm your car, Dean. I'm Baby."

"Stop saying that and tell me who you are," Dean demanded, suddenly hostile. Sam on the other hand had finally gotten over his initial panic of having a stranger in their space uninvited and now doubled over laughing at the situation presented in front of him.

"No, no, you. Shut up," Dean turned to point at his younger brother, then returned to the intruder, nearly shouting, "And you. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

The stranger's teasing smile faded before he relaxed into the warm welcome smile that he wore when the brothers first entered the room. Then he began to tell his story.

"Well I knew it would be difficult. I knew you would both be hostile at first. The thought of your car being a human is just inane, right? Though, Sam seems to be taking the news awful well," The stranger paused for a moment to look towards Sam with a look of udder adoration before continuing.

"Hello Sam, Dean," nodding to each in turn, "I'm a shapeshifter. Actually I'm the breed of shifter known as a Polymorph. Unlike other shifters you've encountered I do not change my form into that of humans or animals but into inanimate objects. I most prefer to shift into cars or, more explicitly, the impala that you know me as. I've long since forgotten my human name, but you two know me as "The Impala" or "Baby". I've had three owners in my lifetime including yourselves. My first owner was a drunkard and a man of religion. He, after years without a day of maintenance, sold me to a dealership. The dealer, in turn, sold me to your father, after a bit of persuasion from you Dean. In time, John gave me to you. And we've been driving cross country with your brother ever since."

"Do you even hear yourself right now? That's completely ridiculous and impossible," Dean tried to reason. Sam on the other hand continued to laugh quietly at his brother's distress at the situation.

"Not impossible Dean. Though to many people I'd think it's safe to say that it's highly improbable. But honestly, after all that you two have seen throughout your lives, including other breeds of shapeshifters, is it really so hard to believe over all? It was only a matter of time until you met one of my own breed or any other breed of Shifter you two find "irregular"," the stranger reasoned back. He almost seemed like he was trying to sooth the man in front of him, which he was.

"There aren't multiple breeds of shapeshifters. Shifters can only mimic other people. Even if there were other breeds; hunters would know about them," Dean was trying to reason looking exasperated as he moved his hands about, "Shifters can't turn into mere objects, much less full blown cars. And why the hell are you still laughing?"

When Sam finally paused, he responded to his brother by saying, "Oh come on Dean. Is it really so hard to believe? We've seen way stranger stuff. I think he's telling us the truth."

"And why would I, of all people, lie to the two of you?" the stranger asked, innocently.

"Okay, then prove it. Prove to me you're a car," Dean demanded.

"Would you like me to change forms here?"

"Let's not get tire tracks on the carpet. Is there anything else you could do to prove who you are without destroying the furniture or causing a scene outside?" Sam asked politely, curious to see what was to come.

"Of course," the stranger replied with a smirk and with a single blink of his eyelids the stranger's eyes projected a bright, almost blinding yellow light. And with another blink of his eyes they returned to their original, strange ewe. Now the brothers knew the true color of the stranger's irises. They're the same foggy gray as headlights on a car.

"Fine, I believe that you're a vehicle. That still doesn't prove that you're my car," Dean stated harshly.

"Dean, what about the jacket?" Sam reminded his brother.

"No, it's just a jacket. Anyone with even limited knowledge could chalk one up in thirty seconds. No, unless you want me to start testing you in every way I've ever learned, I'm gonna need more," Dean demanded, refusing to believe the man in front of him is his most prized possession.

"Well, short from completely transforming," the stranger replied with a slight sigh as he swept the bottom left side of his jacket behind him and pulled up the tail of his t-shirt, "There's this."

Written across the strangers left hip just above his low riding jeans in a silver ink is a small symbol sitting in a circle and beside that symbol is a single word, **_Impala_**.

"Chevrolet is also written across my back bumper if you'd like to see it," the stranger suggested casually, hoping this was enough for the two men in front of him to see the truth.

"No, it's still not enough," Dean murmured in denial, still refusing to believe the evidence before him.

"What can I do to convince you Dean," the stranger asked with a look of despair written on his face.

"Dean's looking for another mark. Something that can't be duplicated," Sam stated in a calm tone, trying to move the conversation along.

"I see. Well…" The Stranger said no more as he slide off his leather jacket and placed it on one of the bar stools behind him. He then turned back to the brothers and pulled up his left shirt sleeve. Once he did he reveled a shiny, faded scar that shaped the initials _D.W_ on the soft inside of his arm of his arm. After reveling the left arm, the Stranger dropped the short sleeve from his hand and pulled up the right sleeve which revealed a scar forming the initials _S.W_ in the same fashion.

The brothers stood in shock as they each saw their initials revealed before them, carved into the stranger's skin.

"But why," Sam asked, looking from his initials to lock eyes with the man in front of him. The stranger simply waited for more.

"Why are you telling us now? Why tell us at all," Dean elaborated. "Assuming you never told our father since he would have killed you on the spot. You've been with me and Sam for years. You've had every opportunity, but you chose to tell us now. Why?"

The stranger gave a small shrug and a smile as he slide his jacket back over his shoulders. Then he simply spoke, "Because I finally had a reason to."

"And what's that," Dean and Sam asked in unison. Dean still sounding hostile, but now ready to listen to what the stranger had to say.

"This case you two have been following," the stranger referenced while making quotation marks with his hands, "isn't a case at all. You're simply chasing other shapeshifters like myself that simply can't be found."

"And why's that," Sam nudged.

"Because none of us can be. Hunters have existed in the world as long as the human race itself. They have existed almost as long as most monsters have existed and in all this time no one has ever seen or heard rumor of shapeshifters that can turn into "mere objects" as you have said yourself," the stranger explained. "And no one ever will. Unless a shapeshifter wants itself to be known, like I myself have now done. We simply move from one owner to the next, many often changing their shape between owners, while never once being detected. We are almost never missed by any of them. If our previous owners do notice our disappearance they simply replace us. No harm is ever done to either party. And we remain nameless."

"Wait. You now have a reason to tell someone yourself? What's your reason for telling us," Sam probed again.

"You two," the stranger answered simply. "You needed advice on this case and I was the only one with the knowledge to help you."

"Thanks for the help. But there has to be more to it," Dean argued.

"Believe me. I never wanted to revel myself to your father or to my owner before him. My specific type of breed is different from common shapeshifters or werewolves. Those of us who have learned to take the shape of inanimate objects live with humans. They give us a home and for the most part they take care of us. In return, we live silently alongside them and protect them from afar without them ever being aware of our presence. But with you two, I've never felt a stronger need to protect a human in my life. In all honesty, I've wanted to tell the two of you for years of my true identity," the stranger confessed sounding sincere yet unsure of himself or of his place as he spoke the words like a confession.

"What stopped you," Sam asked hesitantly. He seemed almost afraid of the answer.

"I was simply prolonging the inevitable. Trying to avoid this sort of welcoming if I'm being completely honest," the stranger replied.

Sam winced slightly. He understood the stranger's need for caution, especially after Dean's interrogation which Sam knew could have been enacted with much more violence.

"But, there's also the fact that there is a very, very small chance of you two having found one of the shapeshifters while they were in the middle of transferring homes. If any human was capable of accomplishing such a difficult task, it would be the two of you. If you had been able to identify them for what they are it would have been on my hands that they were discovered and possibly even killed by you," The Impala continued to explain his case. This seemed to be the more technical or social explanation as to why he finally decided to reveal himself to the pair. "Shapeshifters have a code, at least among our breed, to look out for one another. We can identify other Shifters from humans or objects. It would have been my fault if I was to have allowed my current owners to discover and/or harm another Shifter without even trying to intervene. Word gets passed around quickly, even faster if you didn't kill the one you found. It would be me that the rest would blame and I would be labeled an outcast," the stranger finished a little gloomily.

"Outcast?" Dean questioned, now curious. "By who? What if the Shifter didn't see you with us or there was nothing you could have done to stop us?"

"Another Shifter in the area could see the event as it took place. Shifters may be small in numbers and try to spread out, but there are multiple Shifters in this town that I've seen since we've been here. Or you wouldn't kill the Shifter you found and they would see me with you or get my scent off of you and know you were with a Shifter of your own. There are too many variables and I would be blamed no matter the situation. You two are my priority and I'm supposed to watch over you. It would be my fault. And with maybe two other shifters that register as "vehicles" in the country I would be narrowed down very quickly. Shifters wouldn't have anything to do with me anymore and many would try to take my life after, especially if the Shifter you encounter was killed. If that were to occur, then we would all be in danger and I couldn't let that happen. My only option would be to leave you, which I also refuse to do. Besides, I wouldn't want you to discover my breed from another Shifter. I wanted you to hear it from me," the stranger concluded his explanation sounding equal amounts of shy, proud, protective, and matter of fact throughout his speech.

There was a moment of silence when the three men stood around the small room and looked at each other. None of them knew the next move that needed to be made.

Eventually Sam had to ask the question, "Well, now what are you planning to do?"

Dean looked from Sam to 'The Impala' and asked in a much less hostel manner than before, "Now that you've reveled yourself to us and have completely dashed our chances of having a case, what do you plan to do?"

The Impala stopped and seemed to consider this question for a long time. He knew what he wanted to say. What he was yearning to request from the two men that stood before of him. But he knew he would almost certainly be shot down the moment he asked. He simply paused and considered how he should answer the question he was presented with.

"Well, we can forget this encounter ever happened and I can remain your car and simply leave you with the knowledge I've given you. Or…" The Impala trailed off slightly, still unsure of himself before finishing with, "I can still remain your car, but I can stop sleeping in the cold."

Sam cracked a smile at the cleverly worded request, while Dean replied with a look of utter boredom as he asked sarcastically, "Is there a third option?"

"Dean," Sam scolded. "You can't abandon your own car. You're in love with your car," Dean frowned at what he hoped was a joke which earned him a laugh from his younger counterpart.

Then Sam turned to address the man across the room. "You're family, Impala," Sam said, venturing a guess at what he should call the Shifter, but once receiving a nod of approval from the man himself he continued. "And if what you say is true, and I for one believe that it is, you protected our father for years and you have protected us since we were born. You'll always have a place with us. Right Dean?"

The Impala looked shocked at the declaration from the younger of the two and seemed to be holding his breath in hopes of being accepted by the eldest.

All eyes were on Dean as he contemplated everything that had happened since he walked into the motel room with his brother that night. Everything the stranger had said seemed to add up in his mind at the moment and Dean knew Sam believed the stranger's story whole heartedly.

Dean wasn't sure what came over him, maybe it was the alcohol talking, but he decided to trust his younger brother in that moment and agreed by saying, "If what you say is true, then of course, you can stay with us. But if I find out you're lying, then I reserve the right to kill you," Dean ended with a faint, but genuine smile.

"I expect nothing less, from either of you," The Impala gushed. He was grinning wide and had tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He had just been accepted for who he was by the two people he loved most in the world. He finally had a home.

*A week later*

"Why don't you call me Baby anymore," The Impala inquired from the open bathroom door.

"What," Dean asked, startled. Dean set down his second beer since he had retired to the motel room on the counter beside him. Dean had just spent several hours with his brother and their new car-turned human-friend drinking, but he figured a few more beers before passing out wouldn't kill him. Because, hey, nothing else could either.

Sam, The Impala, and himself had just been out to the locally owned, town favorite bar for drinks for the last three hours. The Impala didn't have many himself, spending most of his life as a car he didn't have the immunity the brothers had, so he only drank enough for a buzz to start warming in his stomach. Sam and Dean on the other hand drank their fill. With the "case" turning out to be a bust the two were again back to square one. And with nothing else to do with their time, they might as well get wasted to help pass it along.

The three had picked a secluded booth at the front left corner of the building. They had sat in the dark for hours talking and ordering new drinks every half hour like clockwork. The bar scene seemed to work well for Sam that night. He drank a glass more then he usually would and ended up walking to the bar to start a conversation with a cute blonde that caught his eye. Apparently the liquid courage worked in his favor since Dean didn't see him shying away at the last minute or her tossing a glass of liquor in his face. In fact, she had a friend, and the last Dean saw of his little brother was him being dragged from the bar and out into a car by the blonde and a ginger. Dean knew he wouldn't see Sam for the next two to twelve hours, depending on how much the group liked each other after their buzzes died off. Dean looked from the window beside him back to The Impala and saw that he had been watching the scene unfold as well. The Impala was shaking his head in disapproval, but nonetheless, he was grinning from ear to ear and laughing mutely to himself as he saw the car drive off with Sam.

"He has as much game as you have Dean," The Impala commented as he turned back to match eyes with the remaining brother.

Dean shrugged it off and tried to act impassive, but the smirk remained seated on his face as he replied, "Yeah, he's alright." The truth on the other hand was Dean was proud of his little brother in that moment. Sam wasn't usually the one to leave the other brother in the bar alone to walk back to the motel, but tonight Sam picked up two girls at once. As strange as it seems, Dean was honestly proud in that moment when he watched them drive off together and he was happy that at least his brother would be having some fun tonight.

"Come on. I don't see you taking anyone home yet. Anyone catching your eye tonight?" The Impala asked suggestively, but Dean was too drunk to notice. Instead, Dean just turned in his seat to face the bar at large. He scanned the building, ever women he could see from his seat, but none of them seemed to spike his interest.

"Nah," Dean shook his head, "nah. Maybe I'm just not in the mood."

The Impala full blown pouted in a playful way in front of the man sitting in the opposite booth, then the pout became real when Dean still refused to take notice. Then he suggested, "Want another drink? It's not like we have anything else to do tonight."

"I don't want to keep you waiting any longer, you haven't had a drink in over an hour. No, I think it's time to turn in. I'm tired anyway."

"Alright, if that's what you want. Meet me out back, Okay?"

Dean nodded and the two parted ways, taking separate doors out of the building. By the time Dean left the bar and walked around to the back of the building The Impala was once again in his automobilistic form. Dean still wasn't use to the fact that every time he was driving his beloved car he was also driving a human being, but The Impala had insisted that if he hadn't cared before he wasn't going to start caring now. So Dean tried to act casual as he slid effortlessly into his designated seat. With a turn of his keys in the ignition the engine roared to life and the whole car seemed to purr under the man's weight.

A ten minute drive back to the motel and a twenty minute shower held between the two men and we find Dean seated on his bed in front of a muted TV with a beer sitting on the close at hand counter. The Impala is standing patiently, now outside the bathroom door, with still slightly damp hair, his black T-shit which is clinging even more tightly to his chest due to water (if that's even possible), and in low riding gray sweat pants that he borrowed from Sam.

Dean is currently staring across the room to the hall way which The Impala is occupying, a deer in the headlights look on his face.

"Why don't you call me Baby anymore? It's been a week since you found out that I'm actually human. Since then you haven't called me Baby in either form, even when Sam isn't around," The Impala explained. He crossed his arms as he said this and looked almost hurt. "I just want to know why."

Dean seemed lost for a moment, like he didn't know how to answer the question. Then he answered rather lamely with, "I just can't." Dean flinched slightly at the answer, but it's the only one he could bring himself to give.

Now The Impala was truly hurt. That wasn't an appropriate or acceptable answer.

"No, that isn't enough," The Impala answered back with a shake of his head. It was the first time that Dean had seen the generally upbeat man wear a genuine frown on his handsome face. "Please, tell me why."

"Because you're a guy," Dean answered slightly louder and slightly higher in pitch than when he had first answered. This time Dean actually had the decency to close his eyes and marvel at how stupid the answer he gave was, though it was true. He now knows The Impala, his beloved vehicle, is human and he is a male. Dean just simply can't bring himself to do what The Impala is asking of him.

"That's what you're worried about? Really," The Impala barked out a harsh laugh. "You've been less drunk than you are now and have been with men."

"What? How could you possibly know that," Dean both confessed and asked the man in front of him with a panicked voice.

"Dean I drove you to and from those boys' houses' and you tend to talk out loud a little too much when you're alone with me," The Impala answered with a jealous and hateful grimace on his once gentle face.

"Well, it doesn't mean anything. It was so long ago, I was in my twenties. I was young and didn't know what I was doing because, as you pointed out, I was drunk," Dean quickly tried to defend himself.

"Dean," The Impala began a tad quieter, "you can't lie to me. I know you better than anyone. Like I said, you talk a lot when we're alone," The Impala continued with a knowing smile and a strange look in his eyes that Dean couldn't quite yet place.

In the time that The Impala had said all of this he had drifted silently from the hall way to the counter. He was now leaning over the bar on his crossed arms looking down at Dean on the bed, like a predator sizing up its prey.

"It still doesn't mean anything. It was years ago. College years man. I was young and stupid and drunk," Dean repeated. "It didn't mean anything then and it doesn't mean anything now."

"Oh, but we both know that's not quite true. Don't we," The Impala all but purred. "I remember those days as clear as if they had happened yesterday. You liked being with those boys, each and every one of them, even more than you wanted to admit to either of us. And yet you did."

"No, I didn't. I did it, it was a mistake, and it's over," Dean stated loudly. "End of story. So can we drop the subject please?"

"You're not the type of man to make the same mistake twice Dean, much less periodically. No, this isn't over until you admit it to me and to yourself. You liked being with those boys and you know it," The Impala stated, sounding almost childish with his teasing. And even though he may have been smiling he was being completely serious about the matter at hand.

Maybe it was caused by how much Dean had to drink, but Dean gave in a little too easily by admitting, "Okay, fine. I liked it, but that still doesn't actually mean anything."

"So you liked being with men?"

"Yes, alright, fine. I liked being with men. Happy?" Dean demanded, turning pink in the face as he spoke the truth aloud. It had been years since he had let himself think in such a way.

"Then why do you have a problem calling me Baby," The Impala demanded back.

"Because I can't. You're a man and I'm not gay," Dean stated defensively.

The Impala just smiled and laughed lightly as he glided around the counter to lean his back against it, replying with, "Oh, don't be so hard on yourself."

"I'm not," Dean answered. Though he wasn't quite sure to what in response.

"Well that doesn't mean you can't still call me Baby," The Impala stated in a matter of fact tone.

"I didn't know before," Dean stated, pouting, cheeks growing darker as the conversation progressed, now refusing to meet the man's gaze now less than two feet from him.

"Oh please. You knew. My impala form is a muscle car. You knew from the start and you still called me Baby. And it's no different now," The Impala tried to reason.

"It's different because now your human," Dean tried to argue, but was quickly interrupted.

The Impala pushed off the counter, leaning over Dean's form, causing Dean himself to lean back on his hands behind him, and he whispered, "I just want you to call me Baby. Is that really too much to ask?"

"I can't. I'm not…" Dean began again, but was again interrupted midsentence. Only this time is was by The Impala leaning in and brushing his lips lightly against Dean's hovering just below his own.

Dean immediately reacted as if his body had been shot full of electricity and bolted from the bed. He moved into the kitchen to gain distance between himself and The Impala. He face was a burning shade of red and for a moment he seemed unable to connect his brain to his mouth to speak.

"Oh, come on Dean. I'm sorry, but you don't have to run from me," The Impala tried to soothe the other man in the room as he followed him into the kitchen.

"Why did you do that," Dean asked after recovering, both scared and confused, as he leaned back against the kitchen sink.

"Because I care for you Dean," The Impala replied, "And I want you to care for me."

"I do care for you, but why would you do that," Dean asked, referring back to the kiss, searching for an explanation.

"Because I've watched you your whole life. I've watched you learn and grow. And I've watched you turn into a great man. A good man. I care about you Dean and I want you to care about me."

"What about Sam?" Dean pointed out.

"I love Sam. Absolutely, I do. With everything in me. Just not in the same way. Not in a romantic way," The Impala answered, his voice dying off at the tail end of his admission.

"Romantic," Dean repeated still confused by what had just transpired.

"Yes Dean, romantically," The Impala whispered. As the conversation was taking place, The Impala slowly inched towards Dean a mere half step at a time. He was being very careful as to how he approached Dean, as if he was a timid animal that would run if startled. "I've watched you your whole life and I've grown to care for you very deeply. I love you Dean. And I want to be with you," The Impala confessed rather shyly, completely unsure of his place, but never more sure of his words and feelings towards the scared man in front of him who was also doubting himself in this moment. "And now that you know about me, we can be together, if only you would allow yourself to be."

Now there was only a foot of space between the two. Dean had notice The Impala had been moving closer to him during the conversation which caused him to fix his gaze on the ground, refusing to look at any part of the other man. The Impala waited patiently for a reply that seemed would never come.

After a minute, The Impala asked in a way that was supposed to convey encouragement, "Dean, please talk to me."

"You're a car," Dean mumbled.

"Yes."

"But you're a man."

"Yes, I am."

There was another long pause where Dean seemed to be contemplating something, then he asked in a voice hardly audible, even to himself, "Why do you want to be with me?"

"Because I love you, Dean Winchester. I've been with you your whole life, watching over you and caring for you from a far. You've always trusted me, above everyone else, with your problems and doubts. So why can't you trust me now," The Impala asked in a desperate, pleading, seemingly damaged tone.

"But I'm not…"

"No. Strictly speaking, you're not. But that doesn't mean you're not attracted to men. Or me, specifically. We've already proven that. And I've seen you in all of your relationships, most being women, and almost all of them have never mattered to you in the slightest."

"That's not true," Dean stated harshly, standing up straight and locking eyes dead on with the man in front of him for the first time since the conversation began.

"Lisa…Yes, I know you care for her and that child. I'm still not completely convinced that he isn't yours. But nonetheless, you've said it yourself, you can't be with her. It's too dangerous for the both of them."

Dean bowed his head again, defeated. He knew The Impala was right. Dean stayed silent for a total of five minutes contemplating all that had happened since the conversation had begun, everything that was said by The Impala. And The Impala gave him the time to do so.

The Impala took a step back after Lisa had entered the conversation. He knew he had taken it a step too far and he had no intension of bringing it up to begin with. The Impala knew all of Dean's weakest points and he never wanted to use any of them against Dean. He never wanted to hurt the man he cared about most in this world and yet… The Impala regretted what he said to Dean so he decided to give him the space he needed to think about all that had passed between them. The Impala would have given Dean Eternity if he had asked, if that was what Dean needed. And yet those five minutes were the longest in The Impala's unnaturally long life.

Dean contemplated everything that The Impala had said. It was in fact true, Dean had been with dozens of people throughout his life, both men and women. But for the majority of each of his relationships they had been one night stands and he held no feelings for a majority of them. There were few relationship that he was in over the years were he felt genuine feelings for his partners. Most of them had been with women and, if Dean was honest with himself, any feelings he held were based solemnly on a need to protect those around him or, more often than not, the relationship was based more on friendship rather than sex. The only person he had ever admitted to truly loving was Lisa and as it had been laid out for him countless times, he could never be with her.

Then Dean thought about The Impala himself and how he had said he wanted to be with Dean. How he claimed to love him and wanted to care for and be with him. Dean doubted himself with that single thought and couldn't bring himself to believe that the man two feet away from him could actually care for him at all.

And finally Dean thought back to the kiss. The kiss so faint Dean had hardly felt it on his lips and yet had over reacted so fiercely in such a negative way you would have thought the kiss was a full body impact. The first kiss he had had in weeks, his first kiss with another man in years. The kiss that had been so hesitant because the man who had enforced it didn't want to push Dean passed what he was comfortable with. The kiss that was so light and quick Dean had no memory of it beyond that, yes, it had happened. And as Dean thought this, he found himself wanting to repeat the action. The realization that came with that very thought was even more shocking than the event itself. But, it was then that he realized that he wanted to kiss the man on the other side of the miniscule kitchen. He wanted to know the feeling the man's skin against his own, the movement of his lips…to know the taste of the man's mouth…

And this thought is what brought the silent man back to his voice. The voice that came out so quiet that The Impala actually had to step back into Dean's space to hear what was being asked of him. The voice that was so timid and shy that it didn't match the man it belonged to. The voice was even foreign to the man using it: inaudible and terrified.

"Do you honestly want to be with me," in a voice shaky with the fear of being rejected yet again by another person who he cared deeply for. Someone that Dean truly cared about, long before he even knew of the man's existence.

The Impala cocked his head to the side and seemed to laugh to himself before answering in the most honest tone of voice that Dean had ever heard, "Dean Winchester, I have been head over heels for you for decades. I have watched over and protected you since you were born. And I would do anything to stay with you for the rest of my life. Dean, nothing in the world would make me happier if you would allow me to be with you."

With a declaration of love proclaimed once more, The Impala waited with baited breath for Dean's next play.

Dean was taken aback when he heard The Impala's declaration and in that moment Dean wanted nothing more than for it to be the truth. And it was then, on a drunken whim, which Dean decided to trust the man's word. Then in the same shy, delicate voice, Dean asked, "Kiss me?"

"Excuse me," The Impala asked, honestly afraid he had simply misheard.

"Will you kiss me again?"

He paused. "Oh, I'm sorry. I can't quite hear you." Now, of course, The Impala had heard the request the second time it was spoken, but since Dean was admitting his feelings towards him The Impala couldn't help but to tease the poor man, even just a little.

Again, for the first time in a long time, Dean made eye contact with the man mere inches from himself and again in his natural, gruff, powerful voice, he demanded, "Kiss me damn it. Like you mean it!"

And it was as if a switch had been flipped in the room. The Impala immediately surged forward and closed the small gap between the two men's bodies. His arms flew out around Dean to brace himself against the counter. He pressed his body into Dean's to push him further into the counter as he leaned into him, kissing him hard.

And Dean reciprocated. He followed The Impala's lead and leaned his back against the counter. His hands instinctively reaching out to grab The Impala's hips and pull their bodies' together.

When they connected, bodies flush, The Impala made a sound of contentment low in the back of his throat, releasing all his self-control to Dean to do as he pleased.

The two remained in the kitchen for only a minute or two, taking time to devour each other and deciding on an even pace with which they ground their hips together, before Dean became impatient and began pushing into The Impala, directing the shorter man towards his bed. Stumbling only once, the two were able to maneuver around the bar, each braking apart for a brief second to remove their shirts, before Dean landed on top of The Impala, lying flat across the bed.

The Impala's right hand found purchase in Dean's hair, tugging lightly as to encourage his partner's exploring hands. Dean's now confident hands moved from The Impala's hips slowly up his abdomen. He mapped The Impala's strong muscular figure, grazing each set of ribs only to palm at his chest greedily. Dean suddenly had to stop to admire the skin exposed to him with his eyes before his mouth latched onto a collar bone and slowly eased down the strong body that rested under him, leaving nips and bite marks and kisses in his wake.

For the next hour or more the mostly dark room was filled with the sounds of constantly shifting sheets and the steady creaking of a bed frame. The sound of shoes and a belt connecting harshly with the floor. Heavy panting and whispered curses. Gently spoken endearments which later turned into loud demands, only to subsided to desperate requests. Names shouted into the open room upon each new wave of pleasure followed by the sound of lips gently sucking on skin. And the sound of blood pumping continuously through the men's' bodies so loudly in their ears that they were each convinced any neighboring rooms could hear their hearts pounding as well.

In the end the two came together. The Impala, silent, face buried in Dean's shoulder as he drew blood from a dark bruise that he had spent so long creating. He continued to cling to Dean's back as he rode out his orgasm. His short nails scraping across Dean's skin which left erratic traces while red, hot iron passed between his dry lips and traveled down his throat or left a trail down his slightly tanned neck to pool at the center of his chest. Dean on the other hand came loudly with a final snap of his hips. He held The Impala's hips tightly enough to leave hand prints, throwing his head back, and for the first time in a week allowing himself to speak, or rather scream, the name…

"BABY!"

XXXXXX

The next day, Sam returned to the quiet room at eleven in the morning. The Impala was sitting at the bar, fully clothed in his all black attire, finishing a private lunch. Dean stepped out of the bathroom as Sam removed his jacket, fully clothed as well and clean from his shower. Like Sam, Dean was currently recovering from a slight hangover and he only offered a low grunt in greeting upon seeing his brother return. The Impala looked up from his plate and offered Sam a plate of his own as another form of greeting.

Half an hour later, Dean slammed the trunk of the car closed and stepped inside, shutting himself in the driver's seat seemingly without a thought. Sam on the other hand walked to the passenger side of the car and taped the roof of The Impala kindly, as a form of affection and inquiring permission, before lowering himself into his seat.

Now they're driving down another back road leading out of Bozeman, Mt. Sam is gazing out the side window lost to the world in his own thoughts. The Impala is allowing Dean to drive like he always does, currently unconscious while in his car form.

Dean on the other hand is intensely focused on the road. Refusing to let his eyes, or mind, wander from the asphalt, least his thoughts travel to the events of last night in the old motel room which he is intent on putting in his rearview mirror.

It's not that Dean has any regrets. Far from it. He can't remember the last time his mind was so clear or his body was so relaxed or either felt so rested. When Dean woke this morning his nose was buried deep in soft hair and a strange mixture of smells like car wax and oil and earth entered his system after taking a deep breath. The heavy weight of The Impala lying bare on his chest. After basking in the glorious feeling of the morning after that Dean has never before allowed himself to experience, he carefully slid out of bed, tucking the blanket tighter around the man still snoring softly in the sheets. In the shower Dean replayed the events of the night before several times. The first initial kiss which led to deep and weighted conversation which led to heart felt confessions and finally to quit possibly the best sex Dean has experienced. Eventually Dean ended up with his right hand moving between his legs, his left forming a fist in his mouth as he came on the tiled wall in front of him. His head drowning in thoughts of dark eyes and rough hands. In the end Dean dressed in his usual attire of jeans and plaid, letting his mind and body except the fact that he was, in fact, in love with the man he had spent the night with. He regretted absolutely nothing that had passed between him and The Impala during the early hours of the morning. He is in love, and he's happy about it.

He ran his hands through his hair and positioned his shirt to cover the bruise sitting on his collarbone before leaving the bathroom, planning on scrounging for food to share with his new partner. Upon leaving the small room, he discovered that Sam had returned to the motel after his exciting night out on the town. The three ended up eating cold pizza from the fridge that they had ordered two nights before at the small bar in the kitchen. Sam spun an exciting tale of his romp with the girls he had disappeared with while Dean and The Impala sat completely enthralled and a bit impressed by the younger Winchester, their knees barely touching just out of Sam's line of vision.

Despite Dean's personal wishes, he found his mind wondering to this area of his mind. Recalling the breakfast, he had shared with his new found interest and his brother, he decided that he would eventually tell Sam. He had to of course and he would, soon, but not today. He knew Sam would understand and be pleased for the both of them, but he wanted to prolong the inevitable teasing that would ensue shortly after.

Once coming to a conclusion, he was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the radio changing songs over the car speakers. He soon remembered that this song had played when he entered Bozeman with Sam and found it ironic that it was being played as he left. It's one of Dean's favorite songs and he turned the volume up with the crank of a nob. Dean listened intently to the song he knows well before beginning to sing along softly.

 _Ramble on and now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song_

As he sang, he looked to the hood of his car and stroked the steering wheel slightly, gently.

 _Gotta find the queen of all my dreams_

This song has always been close to Dean.

 _I'm going around the world, I got to find my girl, on my way_

The only thing that has changed since the last time he heard this song is now he has someone he can finally sing it to.

 _Gonna ramble on, sing my song. Gotta keep-a-searchin' for my baby…_

The song died as The Impala drove out of the small town and Dean lowered the volume of the radio once more, returning it to play at low vibrations. But Dean kept a bright smile on his face the entire drive to the party's next location.

*Four Months Later*

Dean left the motel not five minutes after Sam had left to do some single handed investigation on a new lead in the case that the brothers are currently working on. The brothers and The Impala have been in the same general area, working a small haunted town case, and the three had been sharing a motel room for the same amount of time. It has been four months since the incident which brought Dean and The Impala together and it has been almost a month since the two have had sex. This is the longest period the pair has gone without having been together since becoming a romantic couple and Dean was becoming aggravated by the fact that he couldn't be with or simply be openly affectionate with the man he loves like he wants to be simply because the two of them still haven't told Sam. And because Dean was becoming so agitated with his current situation and knew he needed to focus on the case at hand, he decided he was going to take matters into his own hands and correct his little predicament.

So Dean ran out the door with The Impala following slightly behind him without the need of an explanation. After a quick and seemingly painful, yet quiet change, the two were driving fifteen miles over the speed limit in a direction that took the two out of town.

Dean finally came to a stop in the middle of an open field and put the car in park. He took a few minutes to sit quietly in his stationary vehicle to look around his surroundings and decide on exactly what he was going to do.

Dean had driven out of his way to leave the town he knew his brother was still currently working in, down several barren roads, and through patches of trees not even formidable enough to be labeled woods, until he finally turned off the road into an open field. Looking around himself now, he saw that he was sitting a mile or more from the road side to his left and he hadn't seen another car on the road with him in the last twenty minutes. The field he is in is covered in short, dry grass and holds very few trees. A very short twig of a sprouting pine tree is ten feet from the car and the only thing blocking Dean from the view of the road. It offers little shade and even less cover, but Dean decided that with so little traffic in the area he won't need any cover at all.

After assessing his surroundings and deciding that he wasn't going to find a better area for his intentions, he mustered a little courage and climbed out of his car, shutting the door behind him. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he slid his flannel shirt off his shoulders, and threw it through the open window to land in the passenger's seat. Then he turned to his right and slowly began to move in a circle around the car. As he moved, he gingerly traced his hand across The Impala's badges and over his sliver colored back bumper.

The Impala made a clicking sound, as if the blinker of the car was turned on for a short moment, in question to Dean's actions as he passed by his trunk.

"Ssshh. Just go with me on this," Dean answered in a soothing voice, talking slow and calm. He continued to speak as he walked around the vehicle once more, eyes scanning over it slowly, hungrily. His hands roomed over the vehicle at random points as he stalked powerfully around his beloved car. "Since we're on a case and Sam still doesn't know about us we haven't had any alone time. So I've taken it upon myself, being the oh-so-loving boyfriend that I am, to change that."

Once Dean was in front of the car again he stopped and faced it head on. He took a few steps back from the black car and admired it for a moment in silence. He looked through the windshield, hardly able to find his own reflection, then slowly, methodically, removed his gray t-shirt to reveal his toned torso. In the light of the afternoon sun Dean began to sweat as the heat of the day started to wear on him as much as his own thoughts already had been and the irises of his eyes were almost completely filled in with the blacks of his dilated pupils. Dean's stiff length was visible through his blue denim jeans and now that he has blatantly revealed his intentions to his partner his breathing has changed; it's now laborious.

The Impala's head lights came on and shone brightly against Dean's figure, placing him in a sort of spot light.

"It's been too long Baby," Dean stated in a husky voice, smiling for a moment before his face again became neutral and his attention returned to the task at hand. He approached the car calmly, taking slow steps, and threw his shirt onto the roof of the car.

Dean's hands splayed flat across the hood as his pelvis connected with the front grill and he started to grind his hips into the front of the vehicle.

At once, the car came to life and its engine began to vibrate under the hood that Dean rested against, adding to the warmth of the metal under the man's body.

"Fuck," Dean grunted roughly into the hood of the car once he felt the vibrations of the engine against his chest. Dean had been thinking about this interaction the entire hour drive out to the secluded field and though it had turned him on, he hadn't expected to be so genuinely effected by the scenario.

The sound of the engine grew louder in his ears as he came closer to his release. Not wanting to break the spell too early, he forced himself to gradually slow his thrusts until he was motionless against the car. Not waiting to regain his breath, he kissed the hood of the car messily then pushed off it briefly before crawling to sit atop of it. Once sitting in the middle of the car, he leaned his bare back against the glass of the windshield warmed by the sun and spread his legs in front of him across the car. Dean took the time to rub himself slowly through his currently constricting jeans, calmly teasing himself as The Impala would, before popping open the button and pulling down the zipper.

Dean lowed his jeans and pulled his erection from its confining space between his legs. He groaned loudly as he wrapped his right hand around the base of his shaft and threw his left hand to the side, putting it through the open window and grabbing onto the frame of the car. Dean feels, so much as he listens to, the hum of the engine under his weight as he slowly begins to move his hand up and down his warm length.

Up and down, slowly picking up speed and adding a twist of his wrist or a trace of his thumb over the head every few strokes. Dean's hand moved along his throbbing cock as he neared his orgasm once more. Moaning deeply to himself, he bent his right knee on the car for leverage and his hips began to meet his hand with every thrust. A minute later and he came in his hand and over his sweat slicked abdomen. His head banged against the roof of the car leaving the name 'Baby' hanging as a silent scream on his dried lips.

He sat on the hood of the running car for several minutes, panting heavily. Eventually The Impala turned itself off and waited patiently for Dean to recover. Dean felt around the roof for his shirt and, once in his hand, used it to clean his hand and chest while simultaneously tucking himself away. He then turned over to straddle the hood of the car and kissed the windshield sweetly before sliding backwards off the vehicle. He now has a lazy smile on his lips as he gently pats the hood of the car and walks to the driver's door. Replacing his now soiled t-shirt on the passenger's sit, he dressed quickly in his red checkered shirt. Then he slides into the driver's seat, places the keys into the ignition, and begins the hour long drive back to town.

Once back at the motel, Dean backed The Impala into a parking spot behind the building under the shade of a tree. The space is out of sight of anyone who would happen to be passing by which makes it a perfect spot for The Impala to change back into his human form. Well, almost.

After a fast and majestic change from car to human, The Impala stood once more dressed in his black attire and grabbed Dean's face in both of his hands, declaring loudly and possessively, "I fucking love you."

The two men kissed passionately for a minute before separating a mere inch to breathe leaving Dean room to ask, "So, you liked your surprise?"

"I loved it and we have to do it again," The Impala replied, grinning ear to ear.

Then the two walked side by side to the building in front of them and entered the first motel room they come to.

Inside they found Sam at the far end of the room. He's was sitting at a small round table in front of a large window facing the TV, his computer left open and a bottle of beer half empty on the table in front of him, both forgotten.

When the two men walked into the room Sam greeted them by saying, "Next time you two need some alone time, feel free to ask me to leave. There's no need for you two to be sneaking off into the woods. I'm more than happy to leave you to it."

Sam remand neutral, though it was no easy task with the look on his brother's face.

"How did you know," Dean confusedly asked his younger brother, a look kin to shock on his face.

"Oh, you mean besides the fact that I live with the two of you," Sam asked with a bored expression on his face. Then he pointed a thumb over his shoulder out the window behind him.

Dean leaned further into the room to follow Sam's hand and look outside the large window of their motel room to see the now empty parking space where he and The Impala had just come from.

"Oh," Dean said aloud, smiling shyly before looking down at his feet, now embarrassed at having been caught. Sam smiled back warmly at his older brother before joining the two other men at the door.

"We were going to tell you," The Impala began, but Sam just shook his head.

"I've known for a while. It's not a big deal," Sam assured him as he stopped in front of the two. "I'm just glad you're happy," he whispered to Dean as they embraced.

"I am. Truly. Thanks Sammy," Dean whispered back.

"And you," Sam barked playfully, pointing a finger to the shorter man, "If you hurt my brother, I'm going to hurt you."

"I'm relieved to hear it," The Impala replied and the two of them embraced as well.

It was Sam who then asked, "Who's up for a drink?"

The new couple agreed and the three men went out for a night on the town to celebrate.

Author's Notes: I realize this was an intense read due to its density so I greatly appreciate all who took the time to read my work. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave a review to let me know your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated. Look forward to more works like this from me in the future and others of a different variety. Check out my previous works if you haven't already. If you liked one you might just like them all. Thanks again and happy reading!


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